Called to Account
by sopaltenbass
Summary: Seamus must account for himself and others.


**Title:** Called to Account

**Author:** sopaltenbass

**Beta:** None

**Disclaimer:** 1. This is a work of fan-fiction. 2. No money is made on this work. 3. JKR retains her rights. 4. Thanfiction retains his portions.

**Rating:** PG-13/T

**WIP/Length:** Complete/1212

**Main Character(s):** Seamus Finnigan

**Warnings: **Implied character death, implied violence

**Spoilers: **DH,_Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness _and _Sluagh_ by Thanfiction.

**Summary: **Seamus must account for himself and others.

**Author's Notes: **One of my entries for the June Monthly Improv Writing Contest on DAYDverse which took place on June 27, 2010. Prompt (_Ballad of Accounting, by Ewan MacColl_)issued by elen_nare. She provided a link to the video of the song here: .com/watch?v=9vN2xyMWt-Q

* * *

**Called to Account**

Seamus stood there as the morning sun rose over his home town of Ulster. He was finally sober enough to realize that this city could not have been built in a day. But he would rebuild it, no matter how long it took him. The Troubles had plagued his home for too long. He walked the streets that afternoon listening to the children wailing, the women rebuking them, and the men shouting at everything and nothing. By evening, he was gone, but he had not gone far.

Since the battle, he had wandered aimlessly, not knowing what he would, should, or could do now that war had come into the part of his life he thought knew better, and had taken so much from him. But then, he thought of home, of how the Troubles were tearing apart what little he had left of himself and happiness. He could spend endless time making that wrong right. After all, hadn't Flamel found a way to live long outside the span of human years? Didn't wizards have a longer life than a Muggle? And the lad, Icarus, had hinted he knew things that could help him in his quest for a freer Ireland, a safer homeland.

So, Seamus went to see the lad, and he told Seamus about the Sluagh, and what he might do if he chose that path. Seamus hardly gave it a second thought. What more could he lose? Events of life no longer really mattered to him. Not after what had happened at Hogwarts.

And when he went too far, when he ended up in the Oweynagat and was standing before the Morrigan, it all came back to bite him in the arse. They had so many questions.

Did you learn to dream in the morning?

"Never saw much use in it, so no."

Abandon dreams in the afternoon?

"Pretty much, yeah."

Wait without hope in the evening?

"I thought you knew what were goin' on in our world? We're wit'out hope long before evenin'"

Cuchulainn had even more provoking questions, but Seamus knew they were meant more for him to reflect on than anything much else.

Did you stand there in the traces and let 'em feed you lies?

_Yes, and no. I resisted t'Deatheaters and look where that got me. Drunk in a pub with not a friend t'me name. Didn't see much point in putting up a fight after that._

Did you trail along behind them wearing blinkers on your eyes?

_I...Yes, I'm ashamed to say, I did after awhile. When I just gave up._

Did you kiss the foot that kicked you, did you thank them for their scorn?

_Hardly_

Did you ask for their forgiveness for the act of being born, act of being born, act of being born?

This question echoed through Seamus' head long after Cuchulainn had asked. Was he sorry he had been born? No, not strictly true. He would never have met the friends he had now lost. But if he had never been born, he wouldn't be here now, wouldn't be enduring this, not hell exactly, but these trials all for a world that he thought had known better than to get tangled up in itself. Tangled up in evil. Why? Why _was_ he here? Did he have a purpose? Seamus supposed he must have, but he couldn't see what it was from where he was standing. But if he had a purpose, then...

_No. I never asked forgiveness, and I won't._

And so he met Neville again, and they went back. And he vanquished the Diabhal Dubh. But he died in the process of saving the world. Isn't that always the way?

Did you alter the face of the city?

He thought he had.

Make any change in the world you found?

Sure, for better, and for worse.

Or did you observe all the warnings?

_No. And that's why I'm lyin' here. Bleedin' to feckin' death._

Or he meant to die, but hadn't been allowed to.

The trial was the worst.

Did you read the trespass notices, did you keep off the grass? Did you shuffle up the pavements just to let your betters pass?

"No, sir. I went where I weren't wanted. Did things I should never a done. I couldn' let the Ministry handle this.

Did you learn to keep your mouth shut, were you seen but never heard?

"Now, sir, you already know t'answer to that one. Why ask it at all?"

Did you learn to be obedient and jump to at a word, jump to at a word, jump to at a word?

"I think you know the answer to that already. T'were written clear in my actions, were it not?"

Did you demand any answers? The who and the what and the reason why?

"Sure did, of the lad, Icarus, but he's not here no more, so he can't prove me wrong or right."

Did you ever question the setup?

"Maybe near the beginning, but never near the end."

Did you stand aside and let 'em choose while you took second best? Did you let 'em skim the cream off and give to you the rest? Did you settle for the shoddy

"Now sir, no disrespect, but that's what England's been doing to Eire since t'beginnin' and when people in Eire started doin' it to each other. That's when I knew something had t' be done."

And did you think it right to let 'em rob you right and left and never make a fight, never make a fight, never make a fight?

"Ah, but that's why I'm here, innit? I did make a fight. And near lost it too.

At last the trial was over. Seamus had no will left to live. They would send him to Azkaban and there he would rot. All the better for him. He was no use to anyone in the end.

And yet, a month later, he found himself at Loch Ciberdraoid, with Macmillan's parents and with Susan and little Cecily and he started to heal. They all had questions for him too:

What did you learn in the morning?

_How to care again._

How much did you know in the afternoon?

_That life's worth livin' even when yeh've made a right royal mess of the first part of it._

Were you content in the evening?

_Yes. Oh yes, I were. For the first time in so long, I were._

Did they teach you how to question when you were at the school? Did the factory help you, were you the maker or the tool?

_School taught me how to question the meanin' of me life. That question turned me to a tool of destruction that nearly cost me life._

Did the place where you were living enrich your life

_No. It nearly took it from me. But the place where I_ am _livin' is givin' it back, slowly._

And then did you reach some understanding of all your fellow men, all your fellow men, all your fellow men?

_I don't think it's possible to full understand every man. But I understand a hell of a lot better than I did afore._

It all made sense when he held his son in his arms.


End file.
